Haley Hotchner
by mille libri
Summary: In the final moments before her wedding, Haley reflects on what life will be like as Hotch's wife.


The bride had shooed everyone else out of the room. Much as she loved her friends, and her sister, and her parents, she was too excited to talk to them. She wanted to be alone to see if she could contain the great joy she felt long enough to get through the day without embarrassing herself. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could see the glow everyone talked about a bride having—she had never really thought about it herself, but her whole face shone, her smile wider and more brilliant than she had ever seen it. She leaned forward, meeting her own eyes in the mirror, and whispered, "Haley Hotchner." The name sent a shiver down her spine. How many years had she been dreaming about that name? She had first doodled it on a folder in English class her junior year of high school, listening to Mr. Callahan drone on and on about _Beowulf_, while inside her head all she could hear was the deep voice of the boy whose face had invaded her dreams. Today, that name would be hers. She whispered it again, "Haley Hotchner," and watched her own face light even more, if possible.

She had been onstage when she first saw him, wearing dance shoes with her sweats as they worked on a complicated number, and hadn't noticed the intruder at first. But she had stumbled and fallen, tripping over one of the other dancers, and when she looked up from the floor there was a guy standing in the middle of the auditorium, watching her. There was something in that dark, narrow face—looking at him, she had worried suddenly that he would think she was clumsy. But his face creased with concern for her, and as she got back to her feet the tension in his face eased. Haley had felt a warm glow knowing that he had been concerned about her, even though she didn't know who he was. As they got set up for the beginning of the routine again, she'd looked out for him, but he was gone.

Later, when rehearsals were over, she had asked around about him. Most of the cast hadn't seen him come in, and her description didn't help, but one of the other girls said, "Oh, you must mean Hotch. Wonder what he was doing in here."

"Hotch?"

"Aaron Hotchner. Intense guy; cute, but intense."

Haley had filed the name away, even though she'd never seen him before and seemed unlikely to see him again. Still, she couldn't help remembering his face.

She hadn't forgotten him by the time rehearsals resumed the following week, and was about to go quiz the girl who had told her his name for whatever further information she might have when she saw the pirates file onto the stage to begin rehearsing. Last week, the fourth pirate had been played by a short blond guy. This week—it was Aaron Hotchner.

When she laid eyes on him, she had felt all fluttery, like there was a feather inside her. He hadn't looked up; he was concentrating on the steps, his face dark and drawn together so seriously. Haley couldn't help imagining standing close to him while he had that look on his face, smoothing her hand over it to make him smile and ease away the tension there. She remembered the other girl calling him 'intense' … twice, and decided that maybe intense wasn't so bad, the way he did it.

Somehow she'd gotten through that rehearsal, although she wasn't sure how, because she kept finding herself staring at him. She never caught him looking back, though, and she wished he would. Just once.

Haley had always been a direct person—impatient, her parents said—and she hated to wait when she could make what she wanted happen by going after it. So she had waited after rehearsal, waving away the friends who were urging her to come along, loitering near the door without worrying … too much … about how obvious it must look.

Aaron Hotchner was one of the last ones out of the locker room, having had to stay behind to get his costume fitted. He had been walking with his head down, his mind clearly focused on something, and when Haley said "Hi," his head snapped up and he stopped abruptly. He'd looked startled, at first, and then a surprised, almost delighted smile lit up his face and utterly transformed it.

"Hi," he said, as though they knew each other, as though she was exactly the person he had hoped would be there.

"Welcome to the cast," she said in response, pushing the words through even though her breathing felt suddenly constricted. "I'm Haley Brooks."

"I know. I mean … I'm Aaron Hotchner."

"I know." She could feel herself blushing. "Um … you're new, right?"

"To school? No." He looked puzzled, then he followed her train of thought. "Oh, to the play. Yes, I just joined the cast. I guess someone had to drop out."

"Have you ever done a play before?"

"No."

"Then what made you want to try it?"

He looked at her directly, his dark eyes holding hers. "You."

It had taken Haley's breath away. She had wanted to faint, to run away from the intensity in his eyes and in her own body, to kiss him like she'd never kissed anyone before. But instead of any of those, she smiled back. "Good."

And that was how it had started. After school, weekends, lunches, any time they could grab a moment, really, they had been inseparable. Haley had learned every plane of that dark, serious face, and all the ways of making him smile. Slowly, as they got to know one another and to be comfortable together, she began seeing a silly side, something that came out so rarely, but when it did made her absolutely weak in the knees, melting straight to the bones. Hotch serious was sexy; Hotch funny was devastating.

They had held out as long as they could, but he seemed to find her as irresistible as she found him, and so kissing turned to touching turned to full-on sex much faster than she'd ever thought it might. He was careful, though; never once, no matter how heated, did he forget protection. She marveled at his control—the couple of times they got hot and heavy and he was caught without a condom, he just stopped. And then he made sure she finished.

Thinking about Hotch in the bedroom—and all the other places—made the bride in the mirror blush. Haley had never gotten used to the way he made her feel, in bed and out, even after all this time. Maybe she never would. Hopefully she never would.

There was a knock at the door. "Hales?" her sister Jessica called. "Everything all right?"

"Just having a moment, Jess. I'm okay."

Jessica poked her head in. "Is your moment cause for concern?"

Haley smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all. I just … I can't believe I'm marrying him. Can you believe I'm really marrying him?"

"I can't believe it's taken this long," Jessica said dryly. "I've been telling you to get a room since high school."

"Well, more like an apartment." Haley nodded at her own smiling face in the mirror. "I'll work, and he'll study—he's only got another few months of law school, and then he intends to join the district attorney's office. Can't you just see him, all serious, telling a jury to convict?"

"Hotch was born to be a lawyer—I'm sure it was stamped on his diapers." Jessica laughed. "How about you? Are you ready to be a lawyer's wife?"

"I've been ready for a long time. Hotch wanted to wait until he was sure of a job, but … I've waited long enough."

Jessica came up behind her, putting her arms around Haley's shoulders. "I used to think that I could never approve of anyone you brought home; that no one was good enough for my little sister. But being with Hotch lights you up from the inside; you glow whenever he's around. Even when you argue, and he gets that intense face and super-quiet voice and you get all loud and fast-talking, I can still see how he brings out the best in you." She studied Haley's face in the mirror, started to speak, and then stopped.

"What?"

"It's just … Hales, don't let yourself get lost."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He's a worker. You've seen it, the way he studies. He attacks everything he does like it's the only thing, and I think once he becomes a full-fledged lawyer and is working every day putting away the criminals of the world, he'll work even harder than he does now. I don't want you to end up the afterthought."

It was on the tip of Haley's tongue to assure her sister that could never happen, that Hotch wasn't like that, but even in the midst of her bridal euphoria she knew who she was marrying. He would get caught up in cases, buried in using his intellect to find the truth and shine the light on it, and he would forget to come home. She knew that. The question was, how often would it happen? And how would she hold her own against the mental challenges of the work she knew he would love?

She met her own eyes in the mirror again. Where the smile had been was a thoughtful look, with a hint of doubt in the eyes—that was a Haley Brooks look. Haley Hotchner, on the other hand, would look different. She would be confident and sure of herself and her ability to be what Aaron needed, her ability to handle his devotion to his work and his need to pour himself into what he was doing. Haley nodded firmly to herself, glad to see the doubt receding.

"I'm not going to be an afterthought," she said to her sister. "I'm going to be his partner. Just like when he was studying for the bar and needed someone to make sure he came up for air. That's what I do."

Her face softening, Jessica nodded. "You do more than that for him, we've all seen it. You bring him out of that dark place he goes to and make him laugh, and he needs that. I just … I want to make sure it's a fulfilling life for you, little sister. I worry."

"I know. It's your job. You've said so—a lot." They grinned at each other in the mirror, and Jessica reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair back into Haley's veil.

"I think it's almost time. Let me give Haley Brooks a hug for the last time." Jessica blinked back what looked like tears, gingerly putting her arms around Haley to avoid mussing her dress.

It was hard for Haley to share her sister's sentiment—she wasn't crying over the departure of Haley Brooks. She couldn't wait to trade that name for Hotchner, to know that her love, her best friend, her true soulmate, was hers forever. It still seemed almost too good to be true. Letting go of Jessica, she shooed her back out of the room, promising to be ready in just a few more minutes.

Left alone, she stood in the middle of the room, perfectly still. She was dressed and ready; they could call for her when it was time. But for the moment she was going to remember Aaron's face when he proposed—so serious, as always, but soft, too, which he wasn't for anyone else. It had been a mere formality, of course. They had planned their future over and over again, for hours at a time. It changed several times in the discussing, as their dreams and ambitions for themselves changed, but it was always the two of them, always married, always with a family, going on together. Haley couldn't imagine a future where she wasn't in love with Aaron, didn't even want to try. So she had said yes before he had even finished proposing, stepping on his carefully crafted speech shamelessly. Aaron had protested, but he'd been laughing as he did, and she had thrown herself into his arms and kissed him, and then it didn't matter what he had said, because it was real and it was official, and she was going to be Haley Hotchner.

Not that they had never argued. Of course they had—they did all the time. He was a stubborn, stubborn man, and she was an impatient woman, and stubborn in her own way. But never once, no matter how angry they got, had there ever been a thought that it might be the end for them. It couldn't be. In some part of herself that Haley was usually too practical to pay attention to, she believed deeply that they were meant for each other. Somehow, she had always been meant to entwine her life with Aaron Hotchner's.

The knock came at the door, and her father stuck his head in. "Ready, princess?"

Haley nodded. It was time; past time, really. She moved forward into her future.


End file.
